Mages Ascendant: The Saga Begins
by TreepeltA113
Summary: In an ancient land of magic, the Guardians must hunt down four mages—a village farmboy, a girl locked away in a tower, a white-haired thief, and a rebellious princess—and teach them the ways of light before Pitch can corrupt them in darkness. A ROTBTD Elemental AU. Minimal multishipping, mild violence. Chapter 9: Jack discovers being alone again isn't fun anymore.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Long time, no see. It's been a few years and I've gotten better at writing in the time since I went on hiatus, so I'm back with a new story and it's going to be the longest, hardest thing I've ever written. **

**Welcome to Mages Ascendant. It's a Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons Elemental AU, to put it simply. I've taken all the characters and put them in a realistic fanmade world that was heavily influenced by the settings of Tangled, Brave, Frozen, and HTTYD. There are two planned stories in the series, with a possible third one depending on the feedback I get, we'll just have to see :3 The story is also available on Tumblr, AO3 and DeviantArt if you would like to follow it there, as well! I have some fanart for the story on dA and I have author notes and answered questions on Tumblr. This will update rapidly as I have already published 8 chapters on the above 3 sites, and then it will update steadily with the others as I write the chapters. My planned update schedule is every two weeks ^.^ Gives enough people time to find and read it. So check it out, see if you like it, and go ahead and reblog/favorite/watch/comment/review/anything! XD The author notes will get shorter, I promise. **

The moon was trying to speak.

The realization came to Nicholas St. North quite suddenly, as he bent over a map inside of his hideout tucked away in the isolated Eredon Mountains. His study was suddenly awash with white moonlight, shining through the glass-paned window.

North squinted and straightened, dusting his palms as he studied the sky. He was a ferocious sight to see, with a silvery beard that cascaded down the front of his scarlet tunic. His arms were thick and corded and he stood at nearly seven feet tall. But his face was ruddy and playful, and his blue eyes were as bright as jewels. North gazed at the moon for a second longer, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the study. This was huge. The moon was a mysterious, powerful well of magic that often had fitful insights into the future. Only rarely did it choose to share its foresight with the mages. North couldn't miss this attempt at contact. He thundered down a broad, wooden-paneled, dark-beamed hallway, every window streaming with silver radiance.

He ascended three, four, five staircases, higher and higher into the frames of his fortress-like abode. He passed thick tapestries hanging on gray stone walls, torches gone cold in their iron brackets, long, mazy hallways. Finally he came to his destination— a single hallway, a single door, bound with iron and oak. North strode forward and pushed it open briskly, entering the room beyond. The chamber was a perfect sphere with a flat bottom, engraved around its diameter with curved, archaic symbols. Moonlight refracted onto the walls from a transparent, faceted stone set into a pedestal at the center of the room. The shifting blue light came from a hole in the ceiling, through which the full moon could be seen. The Moonstone was its only mode of communication. When it called, the mages hastened to listen.

"All right, I am here," North said aloud in a thick Damai accent, tilting his head back to watch the sky. "What is big news?"

The light flared for an instant, brightening the room. A bright column began glowing above the Moonstone, inside of which formed an indistinct shape. He leaned forward in anticipation. The amorphous shape became more solid, tall and thin with a bushy top—a tree. But there was something more within its ghostly silhouette, the shape of a young girl. Her shining hair fell all the way to her knees and her eyes were big and soft. It was whisked away and replaced b a shimmering snowflake, surrounding the outline of a boy with spiky hair and a playful smile. It, too, disappeared and re-formed into a swath of blue flame around a round-faced, curly-haired girl, which blew away and settled into a short, plain boy with wind tearing at his clothes.

North was thoroughly amazed. The moon had just predicted the rise of four new mages, when never before had it warned them of one. this was beyond abnormal. "Why?" he asked, looking back at the moon. "What is coming?"

The moonlight flickered and a shadow was cast in the pillar of light, in the shape of a man. The room seemed to grow darker and colder and the shape only hovered for a moment before the moonlight suddenly dimmed and disappeared, plunging the room into semidarkness. Alarmed, North watched as a swath of clouds covered the moon in a silvery haze. Interference. It confirmed two of his worst fears: the leader of Kosmaria was rising, and he was becoming more powerful. He strode out of the room in a rush. He was going to call the Guardians.

And he could only hope desperately that no one else had seen the message.

But someone already had.

* * *

The fork in the road was practically invisible in the midnight storm that blanketed the countryside. In fact, being a stranger to the area, the dark, shadowy figure standing there nearly missed it. His eyes roved over the diverging muddy tracks in a flash of lightning that cracked across the sky. Beyond the path, he could see nothing, but he strode forward confidently into the blinding rain, pulling his sodden cloak tighter around his shoulders. In the rumble of thunder that followed, his mutter was drowned out to everyone but himself:

"Next stop, Berk."


	2. Chapter 1

Hiccup sat bolt upright almost before he woke up. Gray light filtered through the window in his room, testament to last night's storm. The thunder had been loud, yes, and his dreams peculiar, but that wasn't what woke Hiccup. He felt as if maybe…no, he _knew_ something was off in Berk. It was a peculiar, nearly physical sensation, a kind of cold pulse.

Hiccup swung his feet out of bed and fumbled for his warm, furry boots, shivering all the while. He had dark green, inquisitive eyes beneath a shag of straight brown hair. Freckles dotted his fair skin, disappearing into the collar of his plain green tunic. All in all, he was a fairly ordinary-looking boy of fourteen. Unfortunately, that's what made him such a target in the village. Hiccup lived in the province of Kunnia, which was a rough, warlike area at the west end of Traum. Everyone who lived there was large and stocky, all muscle and not too much brain. Hiccup was more out of place than a water mage at a bonfire. He had a streak of intelligence that led him to many hours sketching and inventing, a complete oddity in the village of Berk. His embarrassment was only worsened by the fact that his father was the Chief of Berk—a more stereotypical Kunnian you could find nowhere else. Bulging muscles, wild red beard, towering height, booming voice, Stoick the Vast was everything Hiccup was not. In fact, it seemed ludicrous that Hiccup would one day take his father's place in ruling the Tribe.

Hiccup pulled on his vest and left the room, pausing to scratch Fiddlesticks the cat under his chin where he'd been sleeping at the end of Hiccup's bed. He couldn't hear anyone moving downstairs and assumed that Stoick had already left. Sure enough, the house was empty, so Hiccup stoked the fire and heated up some of last night's stew for breakfast.

As he ate, he pondered over the feeling he'd gotten earlier. It was still there, just less intense, a mild chill in his core. What could be causing it? He'd always felt a special connection to Berk as his homeland, but this was something different. He probed at the feeling, trying to secure details about it. Nobody was in danger. No evil had entered the village. But something else had, something…new. Hiccup gave up pushing himself for answers and went outside to search the village.

Kunnia was a wild, wet place, but Berk itself had to be the wildest and wettest. The town was scattered across the sloping base of an enormous mountain, the many houses crammed and twisted all around its stony roots. There were few areas for farming, so Berk's industry relied heavily on fish from the nearby Lake Evindell. The body of water was so large, it looked like an ocean. Today, its waters were choppy and steel gray as it reflected the passing storm. The steep roads were slick with mud and pools of water. A fresh, damp smell pervaded the freezing morning air, and Hiccup spotted a flicker of lightning on the horizon. He began to make his way down to the main part of the village. The feeling within him flared, and he quickened his pace.

There seemed to be nothing amiss in Berk. Herds of sheep grazed placidly by the road. The fishermen left for the lake with their nets and traps. He never saw Stoick but figured he was off Chiefing somewhere. Hiccup had practically given up when he felt it again. A surge of ice seemed to burn through his veins, making him gasp and leaving his heart pounding. _What is going on?!_

"Excuse me?"

Hiccup yelped and leaped a foot in the air as he turned around, where he found a very surprised figure cloaked in black standing behind him. His gloved hands were raised like he expected an attack. "Whoa! Whoa! Easy there! Sorry about that."

"It's all right," Hiccup assured him, though his breathing still came rather fast. Underneath the cloak, the man was dressed simply in a dark shirt, black trousers and light scale armor falling around his thighs. His face was shadowed by his hood, and he stood a head taller than Hiccup. The feeling in his chest grew to be almost painful before fading away entirely. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

A grin flitted across the stranger's face. "I don't believe you do. What village is this, may I ask?"

"Berk. This is Berk." Hiccup stuck out his hand. "I'm Hiccup."

He hesitated a second before taking it, adjusting his grip and shaking firmly. His fingers felt a bit odd under the black leather. "A unique name. Mine is a bit tricky to pronounce in the common tongue, so you may call me Thomas."

Hiccup noticed the subtle hiding of Thomas' real name, but he let it slide in the hopes of keeping on good terms with him. "What brings you this far north?"

Thomas shrugged. "I like to wander. I've been all over Traum—Cesaret, Damai, Lys…" He dropped his voice conspiratorially. "Even traveled over to Kosmaria for a bit."

Hiccup was awestruck. Kosmaria was Traum's only neighboring country. The two nations were isolated by a ring of mountains, thick forests, and the sea. Relations were stiff between them, and it was almost impossible to cross the river Ybaron that served as a border without running into trouble. The fact that Thomas was even here to tell the tale meant there was a lot more to him than met the eye.

Thomas continued, "I'm hoping to stay awhile before I make it around the lake to the Shivering Shores." He looked anxiously at Hiccup. "D'you think it's all right, or—?"

Hiccup nodded eagerly. "Of course! We don't get too many visitors. Berk's kind of isolated. Everyone will be glad to meet you. I can even bring you to the Chief, if you want."

Thomas smiled and nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you."

It was only then that Hiccup finally figured out what was off about the newcomer, and it hit him so hard that he turned on his heels and started towards the plaza to conceal his startled reaction.

Thomas' eyes—he had slitted pupils, like a cat's. Whatever he pretended to be, he wasn't human.

**A/N: In a chapter-posting rush :P tell me what you think as you go!**


	3. Chapter 2

Jack Frost shrugged his cloak higher up on his shoulders and eyed the crowd bustling around him. Kosmarians were a tough bunch to be around. They always wore dark clothing and suspicious demeanors, and they always had a handy dagger tucked away somewhere in the folds of their cloaks. Made it hard to pick their pockets.

Jack was the opposite of the typical Kosmarian, with their darker skin and hair. Jack had piercing blue eyes and slim features. His skin was very pale, which gave him a cold, drowned look. The strangest thing about Jack was his white hair—not just a light shade of blond, but pure white, with hints of silver and gray. And it always insisted on standing up in stiff, windblown spikes. He usually hid it under his deep blue cowl when among others. It would be bad if someone recognized him. Especially here in the middle of Ira, where there would be guards from the capital of Noctis sniffing for troublemakers around every corner.

Besides, he couldn't be late in meeting his accomplice.

Bare feet skidding over the dirt road, Jack turned into an alley, pausing to check the store next to it. _Apothecary. Got it._ He relaxed in the darkness and leaned against the wall, propping his hooked staff next to him. The autumn sunlight shifted and fluttered as people strolled by, hardly glancing at him. He grimaced at their fine clothes. He probably should have picked a more low-profile area to skulk around in. In his threadbare cowl, scruffy shirt and worn brown pants bound with cord at his calves, he might get arrested just for looking poor. It wouldn't be the first time nor the last.

Jack slipped off his hood and craned his neck back to look at the sky, which was sharp, clear and bright blue. a breeze cut through the aromas of smoke and hot food, carrying the first bites of winter. He soaked in the cold, inhaling it and closing his eyes. There was always a special connection between him and the cold. Winter. Snow. It invigorated him more than any drink; his senses felt sharper and his sight clearer. The effects bordered on supernatural, for he never felt stiff joints or numb fingers, and never saw his breath mist in the air. Jack suspected he could walk through a blizzard and be completely fine.

"Pssst!"

Jack's eyes shot open. He lunged to his feet and reached for his staff, peering into the depths of the alley. An indistinct figure lurked farther down in the gloom. "Jack?" it said.

Relief flooded through him. "Flynn!" Jack raced down the alley and stopped in front of the man, grinning. Flynn wore a long-sleeved white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a collared bluish-green best and brown pants with tall leather boots. The two were good friends and partners-in-crime. It was Flynn Rider who had taken Jack in after finding him lying unconscious in the forests of Damai with no memory of anything but his name: Jack Frost. But even though his past was shady and obscured, Flynn had stuck with him for over two years now. "How did it go? Did you get it?"

Flynn flourished the satchel smugly. "Bingo. I had to ditch the Stabbingtons, but it'll be worth it."

Jack unlatched the bag and looked inside. "Wow," he breathed. A crown encrusted with gems and diamonds glittered in its leather holdings. Easily worth a fortune and then some. He closed it and handed it back. "Anyone follow you?"

Flynn laughed and punched Jack playfully. "Please; you're talking to Flynn Rider. Nothing follows me."

Out on the street, a clamor arose, followed by men shouting and horses calling. "Where's Rider?" "Come on, this way!"

Jack eyed Flynn balefully. "Nothing?"

"Oh, you meant _those_ guys."

Rolling his eyes, Jack drew his hood back over his head. "Gimme the bag."

"Now, wait a minute—"

"I said give me the bag, not the crown."

Flynn understood and handed it over without arguing further. Jack slung it over his shoulders. "I'll distract the guards. You need to go deeper into Kosmaria where no one will recognize you. Try and make it to Korku or Temat."

"What about you?" Flynn retorted. "What if you get caught?"

Jack smirked. "Please. You're talking to Jack Frost. Nothing catches me."

A cold wind roared down the alley, and with that final remark, Jack unleashed his final secret. He brandished his staff, crouched down, and…flew. Straight up into the air, higher than the buildings, the wind at his feet and in his ears.

Jack was no wind mage, but ever since he had woken up in those wintry woods, he'd been able to ride the wind. It came naturally to him, like the breeze had been his friend all his life. As a thief, the ability had become invaluable.

With a flick of his will, Jack landed on the apothecary roof and surveyed the situation. Seven men on horseback were approaching down the street, scanning people's faces and calling to each other. Not good. He slid down the tiled roof and caught the small spire on the corner, hanging on with one hand and leaning over the edge, twenty feet above the ground.

"Hey! Lysians!" he hollered.

Not only did the guards look up, but so did everyone else. Whoops. "Looking for something?" With a flourish, Jack showed them the empty satchel and swung it around. Unfortunately, as he did so, a particularly fierce gust of wind threw back his cowl, exposing his white hair to the guards. Double whoops.

One of the guards drew his sword, and his white horse bellowed and reared. "Let's get 'im, boys!"

Jack slung the bag back over his shoulders and took off, leaping from rooftop to rooftop and leading the guards away from Flynn. It would be easy enough to lose them, but Jack wanted their sights locked on himself and the crown. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Flynn leaving the scene, disappearing into the crowd. Good. He'll be fine.

Something zinged past his ear and he ducked, skidding on a flat roof until he was safely behind a chimney. Crossbows. They had crossbows. The guards rarely left Corona with anything more dangerous than a halberd. They really wanted that crown back. His heart thudded wildly as he realized that the game had just gotten deadly serious.

_You wanna play, Lysians? Let's play._

Jack shot out from behind the chimney and across the street, propelled by the wind. Two more crossbow bolts fired after him, but they were too low. He planted his feet on a storefront, crouched for a second, and then shoved off and landed in the street, rolling to avoid injury. They wouldn't dare to shoot into the crowd. They were going to be in enough trouble as it was, Traum guards running rampant in a province of Kosmaria.

That gave Jack an idea.

People darted out of the way as Jack dashed through the street, bare feet slapping against the hard-packed dirt. He could hear the guards shouting angrily at the crowd blocking their way. It would slow them down, but it wouldn't stop them. He tore through a market square, narrowly avoiding stalls and merchants lined up on the cobblestone, hawking goods in the meager sunlight. Jack ripped around a few corners and almost immediately found what he was looking for: a mounted patrol of men in black armor and metal face guards in the shape of glaring horses. The group was fifteen strong, more than enough to do the job.

Jack passed by the Kosmarian guards with no trouble at all. But the same couldn't be said for the Lysians, Jack thought with a satisfied grin. He heard the Kosmarians shouting at the invading patrol, along with the clatter of horse hooves, and slowed his dash to a walk. Problem solved. Now all he had to do was stay out of Traum, loop back around the city he was in and find Flynn among thousands of Kosmarian citizens.

This was turning out to be a great day.

**A/N: Jack's story is fun ^.^ not as much fun as Hiccup and Thomas', but his story gets super interesting, especially in book 2.**


	4. Chapter 3

Merida stormed angrily into her room and banged the door shut. Her red curls flew and bounced as she threw herself face-first onto her bed, crying out in frustration. There were some days when being a lady had its benefits. But not now. Not today. Today, dinner had been rudely interrupted by her parents' announcement that she was to be wed soon. Yes, she loved her parents—especially her father, as the two were alike all the way down to their looks, red hair and blue eyes and all. But she and her mother were complete opposites, always butting heads over everything. Elinor was tall and straight, with long brown hair and very proper ideas about how the daughter of a lord should be raised. Ideas that, unfortunately, involved betrothal.

In another storm of fury, Merida reached for her sword and rolled to her knees to begin hacking at the sturdy frame of her four-poster bed. It was something she often did when she was upset. Across the room, the door swung open, and she dropped her sword and glared at her mother as she entered the room. "Betrothal?" she yelled, clutching at the scarred bedpost. _"Marriage?"_

Elinor ignored her and walked across the room to an unused chessboard resting on the shelf. "Once, there was an ancient kingdom," she began, picking up the board.

Merida groaned and slid off her bed onto the floor. "No, Mum, not th' ancient kingdom…"

"It's name long forgotten," she continued, "ruled by a wise and fair king who was much beloved." Here she picked up the white king piece and held it up. "And when he grew old he divided the kingdom among his four sons, that they should be the pillars on which their piece of land rested." She took off the four knight pieces and balanced the chessboard on top of them. "But the oldest prince wanted to rule the land for himself. He followed his own path and the kingdom fell to dark outside forces." She pulled out one of the knights, and the entire board fell to the ground, scattering the pieces.

Merida glanced over as the black and white soldiers settled. "That's a nice _story,_" she said patronizingly.

"It's not joost a story, Merida," Elinor said sternly, looking down at her. "Legends are lessons; they ring with truth."

"Och, Mum." Merida rolled her eyes and turned away, glaring at the cold ashes in the fireplace.

"I would advise you to make your peace with this, Merida. The lords are coming in a few days to present the suitors—"

"It's not fair," she snapped, interrupting her mother midsentence. She heard Elinor's skirts rustle as she crossed the room.

"It's joost marriage, Merida," said Elinor, exasperated. "It's not the end of the world."

Merida leaped to her feet and slammed the door on her mother's back with a heavy bang. "Joost marriage," she growled. "Joost marriage, she says! Aye, and ah should be expected tae give mah hand out like a roasted pig! AAGH!" She kicked out at her bedpost, sending a lancing pain through her toes. Fear began to taint her rage as the full implications of being married began to hit her. She'd be tied down to her responsibilities, no riding, no archery, no freedom. It was like a heavy weight had been slapped across her back without her consent. _How could they do this tae me?!_

Holding off on her furious pacing, she sank onto her bed, mind racing. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be some way to talk to Elinor and convince her to turn away the suitors.

_Ah could run awae._

The thought was fleeting, and the audacity of the idea caused her to reject it immediately. _Where would ah go? 'S not like ah can put up a tent in the woods._

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it might be the only way to escape betrothal. She had a horse, and she had money. Nobody would know that she was a runaway princess. The possibilities were attractive. Besides, she didn't need to leave permanently, just long enough to teach her mother a lesson — which would be a while. The plans began forming in her mind, and she tried to stifle them, but a hot rush of rebellion rose within her and for a moment her reason deserted her.

"It's mah life," she said aloud. "Ah should be allowed tae change mah fate, aye?"

Nobody answered her. But in those few short minutes, she had made her decision.

The sun had only been down for a few hours when Merida made her move.

Peeking out of her room, she paused and listened to the innards of the castle for any hint of movement. Her parents' room was close, but she could hear nothing. Her bag swung heavily from her shoulders as she slipped out the door and closed it quietly. Perfect. Couldn't even tell she was gone.

She tiptoed down the stairs, watching the hall for any servants that happened to be up. The dying fireplace silhouetted the snarling bears standing dead and stiff around the room, painting their black silky fur in a ruddy glow. She glanced away from the beasts, remembering all too well the encounter with the demon bear Mor'du when she was a child. It was in that battle that her father had lost his leg, and he told the tale so often that everyone in the castle had it memorized.

Merida flew down the hall, clutching her quiver so it wouldn't rattle, keeping her footsteps light and quick. She didn't run into any trouble until the front gate, where she knew two guards stood on either side of the door. _Aw, blast it._ She'd been hoping for better luck but her fortune had been turned on its head. Now she had to get close enough to the gate to be able to open it fast enough and ride away without getting caught. Brilliant. Merida went back down the hall and up a side staircase to start Plan B.

Upwards she climbed until she passed a window big enough for her idea to work. She carefully unlatched it and pushed it open, letting the cold night air rush into the stone hallway. Carefully sliding an arrow out of her quiver, she set it on her bow, pulled the string back, sighted once more, exhaled, and released it on a straight course for the armory.

An enormous crash reverberated through the night as the arrow struck shield, sword, breastplate, anything and everything that would make a loud noise. Below, she saw the silhouettes of the guards rushing forward to investigate the noise, and she followed her cue. Bolting back down the stairs, she slipped out of the front gates and raced across the soft dirt of the courtyard, heading for the stables, whistling as loud as she dared. Angus pricked his ears and his head shot up, nose quivering.

There was no time to lose. The sentries were calling for help, searching for the source of the commotion. Merida vaulted onto his back, the pack banging against her side, and dug her heels into his sides. Angus went roaring across the courtyard, straight at the outer gates. By the time the guards noticed them, it was too late. He only paused a moment to kick out the board blocking the gates and shoved them open, charging across the stony bridge and into the shadowy forest beyond. Merida looked over her bouncing shoulder at the receding castle and felt a surge of anger and fierce defiance. Castle DunBroch was only visible for a few more moments before the pair plunged into the woods.

The undergrowth snapped and hissed as her horse battled her way through, panting lightly, stumbling in the darkness. A_h should have brought a lantern or somethin'._ They didn't have to go far, though, only deep enough into the trees to be out of the reach of her parents. Then she could camp out overnight and wait until morning to escape into the outer reaches of Cesaret—

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted as Angus slammed to a halt, neighing in fear. Merida clutched tightly to his mane and looked at the path in front of them, searching for a bear or a wolf that might have spooked him. Instead of a hairy, snarling beast however, she saw a small orb of blue light, like a wisp of smoke, pulsing and flickering.

Merida caught her breath. _A wisp!_

Something faint stirred in her memory, a recollection of the benevolent figures leading her through a golden, sunlit forest. Whatever people around these parts wanted to believe, she knew that the wisps were benevolent creatures, and to see one now was extremely good luck on her part. Nobody moved for a heartbeat, as the wisp stared at Merida and Merida stared at the wisp and Angus snorted nervously, dancing to one side. Then, slowly, one after another, a line of wisps sprang out of nowhere, marking a meandering path through the dense forest. She slowly urged Angus to follow them, much to his reluctance and disapproval.

The sounds of pursuit faded away, leaving only the quiet sounds of nighttime to roll and throb in Merida's ears, keeping her wary and alert. But the wisps never wavered, and as soon as she drew near to one, it would sigh and vanish as quickly as it had appeared. Where they were leading her, and why, she had no clue, but she was grateful for the little spirits' company. Eventually the last one faded away, and she was left looking at a large clearing with a small, bubbling stream running like liquid silver in the moonlight. The perfect place to hide and camp.

"Thank yu," she whispered aloud, but her words were met with silence. The wisps were gone.

**A/N: Okay, so Merida's not a princess. I figured having her AND Rapunzel as princesses might be a bit much, but hey, daughter of a lord still has some hefty benefits.**

**Oh, by the way, if you want a map you can go poke around my DeviantArt, I've got a map and a guide on Kosmaria and Traum if anything gets confusing. I tend to name-drop without a lot of explanation. **


	5. Chapter 4

Rapunzel leaned out of her tower window and let her long hair tumble and tangle on the breeze, staring at the iron-gray sky. No, it probably wasn't going to rain today. It didn't really matter either way. She would stay cooped up in her lonely little tower, like she had been for the past eighteen years. It wasn't like she could get out anyway. She'd tried. But there was only one set of stairs and one door, and her overprotective mother kept it locked day and night. Rapunzel didn't really mind. She knew of the dangerous people that lurked outside of the cove, just waiting for a little girl like her to go wandering alone. All in all, she was glad to be safe, but going so long without her feet on the ground had begun to bore her.

Turning away from the window, Rapunzel walked over to her bookshelf, feeling her hair swirling around her ankles. Her mother was also a bit paranoid and wouldn't let her have sharp objects, so her golden hair had grown unusually long. She took care of it meticulously, making sure it never grew ratty or tangled. She took three books off the shelf, only because those were the contents of her entire library. She'd rather spend time painting the many walls of her tower, being a particularly good artist after eighteen years of practice, but just yesterday she had finished her last piece. There was literally no room left anywhere for her art. It was as though a defining point in her life that she'd been trying to achieve for a very, very long time. She wanted to leave her tower. Rapunzel was afraid to bring it up to her mother for fear of upsetting her, but it was the one thing she wanted most. the map in her book was so much bigger than the confines of her tower, and she longed to see it all. But she couldn't leave.

Sighing, Rapunzel sat on her bed and opened to the two worn pages, staring wistfully at the miles and miles of inked-in land that she could almost taste, it was so close. _Maybe…for tomorrow, my birthday, she'll finally let me leave._ It was a distant hope, but it was still a hope, and she held tightly to it.

The shutters downstairs slammed abruptly and Rapunzel sat up straight, heart pounding. Had it gotten windy all of a sudden?

Then she froze as she heard a voice—a slight panting noise, and then, "Whew…okay, that was close. Convenient tower, nice hiding spot, couldn't possibly be any catches, right? Right. Optimism, Flynn."

Rapunzel crept to the threshold of her bedroom and peeked out, quivering. She'd never heard anything like that voice, but could only assume it was a man. There was a person—a person!—silhouetted by the gray light from outside, but she couldn't quite tell who it was; the light blurred the outlines of the black figure. It certainly wasn't her mother. Breathing out slowly, Rapunzel began creeping down the stairs. It was dim enough in the tower that her intruder didn't catch her.

He turned away from the light a bit and reached inside his shirt. "Well, you were worth quite a bit of trouble, now weren't you?" he said to something in his hand. Rapunzel felt for something behind her and grabbed the cold iron handle of a frying pan. Yes. Perfect.

"You better make it up to me, you little cash cow." He was still talking to the thing he was carrying. Rapunzel wrinkled her nose. Sure she talked to the little potted plants on her windowsill, but those were alive, weren't they? _What a strange man. Are they all like this?_

She edged closer and closer, hefting the pan up over her shoulder with both hands. "Sure hope Jack gets here soon," he remarked, and that was the last thing that came out of his mouth before Rapunzel swung the pan as hard as she could and it connected with the back of his head. Or, it should have been the last thing. She supposed the sudden yelp of pain counted, too.

"OW! What in Kosmaria—?" He fell to his knees, dropping the object and grabbing the back of his head.

"Oh." Rapunzel lowered the pan, biting her lip. "You were supposed to be knocked out."

"I'm sorry?" the man sputtered, looking up at her through glazed eyes, rubbing his skull. "I…was…ow." He squinted then, pausing in his vigorous massage. "You know, you're pretty cute," he mumbled. "I'd like you if you hadn't tried to kill me."

Rapunzel wondered if she'd knocked something out of place in his head. "I didn't try to kill you!" she protested. "You broke into my tower!"

"Your tower? I'll have you know that Flynn Rider would never—" He glanced around at the walls and seemed to come to a sudden realization. "Oh. Yeah. I guess I did. Sorry about that, blondie."

"Rapunzel," she corrected, hefting the frying pan. Flynn held his hands up in surrender, coming up to one knee.

"Gesundheit." He suddenly looked around his feet, growing frantic. "Oh, hey, by the way, blondie, you haven't seen a crown around here, have you? It's, uh…my…cousin's."

Reaching back with a bare foot, Rapunzel drew the glittering ring of gold from where it had rolled behind her and picked it up. "What, this?" she asked, still pointing the frying pan at him loosely. Flynn eyed the flat circle of metal as it drifted in front of his nose.

"Um, yep, that'd be the one. If you could just hand it over…slowly…and I'll be on my way. You won't even miss me."

Rapunzel was about to hand it back when she realized how desperate he looked. An idea began forming in her mind, and she pulled the crown close to her chest. "Actually, Flynn Rider, I was going to offer you a deal."

"A deal?" he said incredulously, still hesitant to move any farther than he already had.

Rapunzel gestured out the window with her pan before aiming it at Flynn once more. "Do you know how to get out of Kosmaria?" she said in what she hoped was a commanding tone. Flynn eyed her.

"Sweetheart, what kind of a th…uh…traveler do you think I am?"

"A good one, I hope," she announced, "because you're going to get me out of here."

That was it, the moment she had been waiting for her whole life. Flynn needed his crown and Rapunzel needed a way out. "We can help each other," she continued. "You will act as my guide and take me out of this tower and into Traum. Then, and only then, will I return your crown. That is my deal." After she gave it back, though, she wasn't certain what she would do, but it couldn't be too hard. What could possibly go wrong?

Flynn sighed heavily and dropped his hands. "All right, fine."

She was stunned by his sudden acquiescence. "Wait, really?" she squeaked, the frying pan hopping as she jumped in the air. Excitement flooded through her. She was leaving! She was going to leave the tower! The weighty pan flipped upwards and clipped Flynn on the nose, causing him to cry out again. "Watch the pan, blondie! You need me alive!"

"Sorry," she almost whispered, hugging it close.

**A/N: Out of all of the Big Four, Rapunzel's story is the one most like the movie's. Seems like it would make my job easier but it's actually harder because now I have to make it interesting XD Ah, well, bear with me.**


	6. Chapter 5

The good news was, Hiccup finally found Stoick in the middle of the village. The bad news was, he was surrounded by villagers.

Hiccup had envisioned a quiet, private conversation with his father, possibly in the confines of their house. Not a public announcement in the midst of a bunch of superstitious Kunnians. This was quickly spiraling out of hand.

Thomas came up short beside him. "Oh…is this a bad time?"

"No!" Hiccup said hastily. "No…it's just…my dad's really busy a lot, you gotta know how to get his attention." He hesitated, the irony of his words hitting him. That wasn't even something Hiccup himself knew how to do yet, and they were related.

His sudden embarrassment only increased as Thomas said, "Well, you know how, right?"

"Of—of course!" Hiccup blustered, waving a hand dismissively and turning to face him. "You know, since he's my dad and…and all. The trick is to simply—"

"HICCUP!"

He cut short with his mouth open and slowly closed his eyes. "You just have to exist," he muttered under his breath, turning slowly around to face his dad. Stoick was marching towards him with all the Chiefliness he could muster and a stormy expression on his face. "Hey, dad! Uhh…"

"Hiccup, you were supposed to be at the forge this morning," he said, scowling down at ihm. HIccup cringed at the scrutiny.

"Ohh…yeah. I was going there, I was on my way. I would've gotten there eventually."

His snark was lost on Stoick.

"An' then I find you with this—character," Stoick huffed, facing Thomas. Hiccup was shocked to see that Thomas wasn't fazed in the last; he stood boldly but respectfully, with his chin high, shoulders squared, feet apart. Stoick was quickly discovering that it was difficult to intimidate someone who was almost as tall as he was. "What would be your name, now?"

"Thomas, sir," he said briskly, his voice even deeper than the Chief's gruff bass. "Am I right in saying that you would be the Chief?"

"You are," Stoick affirmed, somewhat less miffed than before. "An' what're you doing running around with my son?"

_"Dad."_

"With all due respect, sir, he was showing me to you. I'm a traveler and I was hoping to stay a while, a few days at most. I won't be any trouble," he added.

Stoick considered Thomas and glanced back at all of the villagers and their problems he had to attend to. "Very well," she said shortly. "Hiccup, show him to Lars' old hut, then back to the forge with you."

"Yeah, Dad." Hiccup gestured for Thomas to follow him. "C'mon, this way."

As they left the plaza, Thomas leaned over to Hiccup. "A little grumpy, isn't he?" he said in a low voice.

Hiccup chuckled dryly. "You have no idea. Don't worry, it's not you. I'm pretty sure my existence just annoys him constantly. He kinda respects you, actually—he pushed but you didn't back down." He couldn't keep a note of admiration out of his voice.

Thomas tugged his hood lower, looking self-conscious. "Oh, I'm not—I don't want to come between you two—"

Hiccup shrugged. "There's plenty of space," he joked. "Ever since my mom…you know."

"Oh. I'm truly sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. It was a long time ago. She was taken in a draconian raid, so…" He gestured vaguely.

"I can relate," Thomas said, his dark eyebrows meeting over his strange eyes. "My mother died in childbirth; I have no memories of her."

"That's horrible," Hiccup said sympathetically. At least he had bits and pieces to remember her by. Thomas had nothing. "It's funny, isn't it?" Hiccup said after a minute. Thomas looked at him quizzically.

"What is?"

"That I'm…we're…I don't know." He shrugged. "Kind of the same, I guess." It was hard to put into words. It wasn't exactly what he'd meant to say, but Thomas seemed to understand.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "It seems we have much in common." He met Hiccup's gaze briefly and looked away. "Perhaps more than we realize."

_What does he mean? _Hiccup wondered. Again, he pondered what the stranger's eyes could possibly tell about him. _Does he know something I don't? Is that why he's here?_

"Come on, guys, I saw him go this way!"

Hiccup's stomach dropped as he heard his cousin Snotlout's voice from around the corner of one of the huts. "Suffering scallops," he muttered, coming to a stop.

Thomas peered around them at the houses, looking concerned. "Who was that?" he asked.

"Snotlout." He checked down the alley next to them. "You think we could take a shortcut?"

"You mean to avoid him?" Thomas looked mildly confused.

"Trust me, if you had seen him, you'd want to avoid him, too." But Hiccup carefully avoided Thomas' gaze as he said this. The newcomer assessed the situation and instantly saw right through Hiccup's evasive answer.

"He hurts you, doesn't he?" he said softly. "He's a bully."

Hiccup shrugged and scuffed at the ground with his boot, unwilling to admit it, but confirming the truth all the same. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Thomas frown and adjust his gloves. The other teen's calls grew louder.

"Sounds like they need to be taught a lesson," he remarked, and Hiccup looked up, hardly daring to believe it. With a reassuring smile, Thomas turned to face the noises just as the source came down the street and stopped, seeing the pair standing in the middle of the road.

"Who're you?" Snotlout demanded. Behind him, Ruffnut and Tuffnut ogled the tall figure that stood in their way. Hiccup was delighted to see the looks of uncertainty and apprehension on their faces.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Thomas moved forward and the threesome involuntarily leaned back as he towered over them. "The name's Thomas." He bowed at the waist almost mockingly, still over two heads taller than them even hunched over. "Hiccup was just showing me to the Chief. I'm planning to stay here in Berk for a few days. It'll be a pleasure getting to know you."

Hiccup actually had to choke back a laugh as Snotlout and the twins looked stunned and flustered. There was no way they were going to pick a fight with Thomas hanging around. For the first time in his life, he felt a bit of hope spring up inside of him. Grinning widely, he saw Thomas tilt his head towards Hiccup slightly and the corner of his mouth curled up in a tiny smile. Then the hood obscured his face as he turned back to the other teens.

"Why are you sticking with him?" Snotlout said accusingly, still trying to stay on top of the conversation. "I mean, he's…he's a…"

"A what?" Thomas crossed his arms and suddenly looked twice as menacing as before, and that was just from the back. Right on cue, there was a faint growl of thunder in the distance. Snotlout clopped his jaw shut and squinted at Thomas, obviously annoyed at being intimidated.

"Nothing," he finally muttered, throwing a final malevolent look at Hiccup before he turned to leave, the twins in tow, still trying to stare at Thomas over their shoulders. Hiccup watched them walk away down the muddy street.

As Thomas turned around, he brushed off his shirt and muttered, "Serves them right." Then he noticed Hiccup looking up at him. "What?"

He beamed. "You can stay longer if you want to."

**A/N: My Thomas/Hiccup brotp chapters get a bit more love than the others so I apologize in advance, I just love this arc too much X3**


	7. Chapter 6

Merida stopped Angus in the shade of the trees and studied the far-off city of Sydan, a ramshackle warren of traders, rangers and merchants. After a fair few days of hard traveling, she had finally run dry on supplies that she couldn't scavenge from the wilderness. Hence her untimely and reluctant arrival at Sydan. She'd picked the town on account of its small size and temporary inhabitants, but now she was starting to have doubts. Word spread fast in merchant circles, and if someone who recognized her made their way to DunBroch, her family would come swooping down on her like a hawk. That was the last thing she wanted. But she still needed supplies. Merida pursed her lips, weighing her options. Erelis was only a two day's ride from Sydan, but it was a bigger, darker, less hospitable city, and had its fair share of crime.

She leaned over and patted Angus' shoulder. "What d'you say, Angus? Onwar' tae Sydan?"

The massive, shaggy horse shook his mane and began trotting down the road. "Well, then, looks like m'mind's been made up for me." She pulled her hood tighter, trying to conceal her fiery red curls as much as possible. She wasn't trying to disguise herself as a boy, but neither was she looking for unwanted attention. Her northern Cesaret accent would stand out enough. She didn't want to give anyone a reason to remember her.

Thankfully, everything seemed fairly quiet in Sydan-if you could call it that. The motley assortment of mysterious characters didn't pay her much mind as they surged and crowded through the streets bustling quickly to and fro on various hasty errands. It got so that Merida dismounted and led Angus carefully through the town so he wouldn't step on anyone's feet. His large bulk cleared a good path through the crowd. Merida smiled to herself as several people eyed her and her massive steed with varying amounts of surprise. _Didn't think ah could handle such a beast, eh?_ It gave her enormous sense of satisfaction to defy her role as a woman.

Merida avoided venturing too far into the city and risk getting lost; instead, she quickly bought her essentials at the outskirts. As she bartered to bring down the absurdly high price of a sack of oats for Angus, she faintly noticed the stallkeeper's young boy watching her horse with wide blue eyes, blonde curls askew, thumb shoved into the corner of his mouth and plumping out his cheek. He edged closer and closer until Angus took notice of him and snuffled the front of his shirt, making him giggle. He was so alike her triplet brothers that for a moment she felt a pang of homesickness. She paid for the oats and knelt next to him. Eyes round, he tried shying away.

"Oh, it's all right', wee laddie," she said reassuringly. "Ah won' hurt yu." Pulling her hood back, she touched Angus' nose. "He's a fine horse, isn't he?"

The little boy nodded. "He big," he proclaimed around his thumb. "He tickle me."

"Och, that means he likes yu," Merida shook some oats into her hand. "Here, do yu want tae feed him?"

When he nodded, she gently cupped his hands and the oats trickled into his soft palms. Angus nibbled them up daintily, as though he knew how careful he had to be around such a small child. The boy giggled again as the whiskers brushed his fingers.

"What's yur name?" she said kindly.

"Henry," he said, becoming shy again.

"Well, Henry, ah think yur a right fine lad, an' good with horses tae boot." He grinned as she ruffled his hair and stood.

"Bye-bye, horsey!" he called out, as they retreated into the crowd. Merida smiled to herself. She might be a bit rough with people in general, but she was good with kids.

Suddenly, the back of her neck prickled, as though someone were watching her. She glanced around, but it was impossible to tell if someone was following her or not. Her hesitation caused Angus to bump into her, and he snorted in protest. "Sorry, Angus," she said in a low voice. "Joost watch ma back fer me, eh?"

He whickered and they kept moving, more cautiously this time as Merida scanned the unfamiliar faces surrounding her. Her sudden apprehension made them all seem hostile and suspicious. Heart thundering, she nervously pulled down the edges of her hood around her face, still feeling the sting of watchful eyes at her back, driving her forward like a ship in a stormy gale. Then she realized that the watched feeling was growing stronger, like a hot pulse surging beneath her skin. _What's goin' on?_

Suddenly she spotted someone leaning against a storefront, casual as anything. The hood of a sleeveless robe was up over his head, but Merida could see tufts of silver hair poking out, and there were jet-black tribal tattoos inked on his arms. Merida knew that meant he was an Islander, one of the natives of the Southern Isles and a fairly primitive group of people. That wasn't what drew Merida's eye to him, though. Some instinct within her said that this was the man who was following her. She was even more sure when he looked up and stared directly at her with bright green eyes. She caught her breath and tried to hurry past him, but his hand shot out suddenly and grabbed her shoulder. His grip seemed unnaturally strong; he managed to pull her halfway into the alley they were next to.

"Excuse me," she said tersely, stopping and trying to pull away. Angus came up beside her and rumbled, regarding the Islander with rolling eyes. People flooded around them, barely glancing at the scene unfolding before them. The man was silent at first, still scrutinizing her, and Merida pulled out of his grip angrily. Who does this scaffbag think 'e is? He let her go, but his eyes shifted to something behind her, and before she could whirl around, something was shoved over her head, a rough fabric material that she realized was a large bag. She tried to thrash and scream but her arms were pinned to her sides and the bag muffled her cries. Somewhere outside of her confinements she heard Angus crying out and stamping, trying to reach her, but his neighs grew distant as she was picked up and hauled away from the noisy crowd, completely helpless.

_Well, there goes all mah plans._

**A/N: A cookie to anyone who guesses who the Islander is!**


	8. Chapter 7

Rapunzel hovered over Flynn's shoulder nervously as he knelt at the door of the tower, tongue sticking out, fiddling with the lock by sticking some bent metal sticks. She grasped the cold metal handle of her frying pan under her arm, running a finger along its bumpy edge. Flynn had said he was doing something called "picking the lock," whatever that meant, but right now Rapunzel was not seeing any results come of the jiggling and poking.

"How about now?" she pressed.

Flynn's shoulders sagged, the little sticks paused, and he rolled his head back to sigh at the ceiling. "Blondie," he said, in a would-be patient voice, "are we opening the door?"

"...No."

"Are we outside?"

"No."

"Then no, I haven't gotten it yet."

Within the last hour, the rain-choked clouds had passed and there was a bright thick beam of sunlight splashing across the floor, reflecting off of whatever was on the ground and smearing the walls with a myriad of bright glows-the orange of the tile floor, the blue of the rug, the pink paint on the fireplace. The hot sun burned the stone walls and floor and a dusty smell seemed to be steaming from the exposed surfaces. Dust motes drifted quietly through the air, stirring as Flynn huffed in frustration, missing his mark with the sticks again.

"Sorry," she said again after a few minutes. "I didn't think it would take this long."

Flynn said nothing, and there was another moment of silence. Rapunzel was trying to think of something else to say to fill the emptiness when the lock finally clunked and the door squealed open, leading to a set of hot, stuffy, dank stairs, spiraling downwards into dimness. She beamed and bounced on her tiptoes, causing the satchel over her shoulder to swing. It was Flynn's and she had persuaded him to let her keep the crown inside. The hostage in question was wrapped in cloth to keep it clean and undamaged. It really was a pretty thing, Rapunzel thought admiringly. When Flynn wasn't looking, she had tried to determine its use. She knew it was a called crown, but that was all she knew. It was too big for her arm, and the glass crystals framed in gold were faceted and didn't work as something to look through. Eventually she would find out its true purpose. Rapunzel was too shy to ask him what it was for, and she knew he would only respond with something along the lines of "have you been locked in here your whole life?" While the answer was yes, she didn't want to reveal to Flynn any more than she had to. Her mother had always hinted that Rapunzel was "special" and that people would come after her if they knew about her. The fear had been instilled early into her heart and she was hesitant to tell Flynn about it.

The pair began descending the stairs, Rapunzel lifting her skirts to place her bare feet on the warm stone, Flynn waving his hand in front of his face to clear the dust that drifted up from the cramped space. "You don't get out much, do you?" Flynn noted.

"Uh...no, not really," she replied truthfully. She was a bit distracted in her response; her heart was thrumming like a guitar string as they got closer and closer to the ground. Rapunzel was about to touch the ground for the first time in her life. What would the grass feel like? Would everything look bigger? Would she feel small next to her imposing tower? The questions piled and piled the further down they went and it took all of her energy to stay nonchalant in front of Flynn. He eyed her but said nothing else, only keeping a mystified smirk on his face.

The door, with a pale glow filtering through the edges and cracks, came into view and she stopped suddenly. Flynn looked at her incredulously. "Well, come on, blondie. Door's that way."

"I don't know," she whispered, hugging the frying pan close. The man shrugged, pushing the door open and letting in a flood of sunlight.

"Well, you know where the tower is. It's forwards or backwards. Let me know when you're ready." And with that, he sauntered outside, stretching in the sunlight and rubbing the back of his head, which was probably still sore from Rapunzel's cheap shot. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, still debating wildly within herself what to do. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but risking Gothel's anger? Would running away be worth it?

_No. That's the reason I have to go. I have to get away from here._

With a deep breath, she moved forward, lightly touching the door's frame as she walked out into the world for the first time in her life. The streaming sunlight blinded her for a moment and she stood in awe as everything came into focus. There was the ground! The grass and the dirt! And she was finally under the trees instead of over them! It was a strange feeling, but an exhilarating one all the same. Rapunzel smiled brightly and walked out of the shadow of the tower, her only home. But soon her walking turned to jogging and her jogging to running and all at once she was racing towards the cave on the opposite side of the cove, laughing, her hair streaming out behind her like a bright gold banner. She could hear Flynn calling for her to wait up but she wanted to see what was outside of the little world she had always lived in-

Suddenly a hand grabbed her shoulder, just as she reached the ivy-covered tunnel, and she skidded to a stop with her toes brushing the edge of a sharp downward drop. Rapunzel cried out and fell backwards on top of Flynn, the one who had stopped her from falling to her death. They struggled awkwardly for a few seconds, trying to get untangled. Gasping, she rolled to a sitting position and stared over the edge of the cliff, clutching her frying pan tightly.

"Didn't you hear me, Rapunzel?" Flynn panted, getting to his feet. "Sheesh, no wonder you haven't left the tower, you were ready to throw yourself off a mountain."

"I didn't know," she replied defensively, peeking out at the wide expanse of trees and the small steepling of rooftops in the distance, her adrenaline subsiding and replaced with excitement once more. "Oh, but look how big it is! How far is it to Traum? Which way? How are we going to get down?"

"Easy, there. One question at a time. We'll take the long way," he said decisively, brushing the dirt off of his already-dirty shirt. "Up north until the cliff gets smaller. I get the feeling that we should take baby steps." He smiled at her, more genuinely than before. "After all, you've only started walking."

**A/N: Couldn't make it exactly like the movie, could I? Had to throw some mortal peril in there. :)**


	9. Chapter 8

"Left hand."

Hiccup leaped in surprised and fumbled his practice sword, dropping it in the dirt with a nerve-scraping rattle. Embarrassed, he spun around to see a dark, hooded figure leaning against the wall of Gobber's shop, watching his pathetic attempts to practice in his spare time. He was determined to become just as good at fighting as anyone else on Berk, but he was never given the chance to improve. He was always working on some project Gobber had for him-or most likely created for him, to keep him out of trouble. Hence his off-time miming. He hadn't expected Thomas to arrive to watch the show, though. Over the past week, the stranger had taken to quietly observing the village and its surroundings, often disappearing for hours at a time to wander the surrounding woods. But he always came back, and he often did it in surprising and even unnerving ways, randomly appearing around corners and houses, occasionally showing up for community events, lurking in the shadows with his always-present hood and cloak. The village didn't approve of his antisocial behavior, deeming it irregular and suspicious. Hiccup never felt threatened by him, though. He enjoyed Thomas' company, having had no close friends for most of his life. The man would make conversation with him at meals, when no one else would even look at Hiccup.

"Thomas!" Hiccup exclaimed. "Wait, what did you say?"

"You're fighting with your right hand; you should switch," he replied. "You're left-handed when you draw and write and work in the shop, aren't you?"

"Yeah…" Hiccup bent down and picked up the sword. "It's just...well, everyone else fights right-handed, so I thought…" He trailed off, and Thomas walked forward, gently took the hilt of the sword, and pressed it into Hiccup's left hand.

"It's okay to be different, Hiccup," he said quietly. "If you play it right, your differences can become your greatest strengths. Which hand would an average swordsman expect you to use?"

"Uh, right?"

Thomas nodded. "And if that swordsman had a shield, which arm would he put it on?"

Hiccup thought briefly. "Left. His left, my right." Suddenly he made the connection. "But if I'm left-handed, he'd have to swing his shield around to defend himself, and then he couldn't attack as well as he normally could." He glanced up at Thomas. "Right?"

"Right," Thomas affirmed with a smile. "Or, should I say, left?"

Grinning, Hiccup hefted the unfamiliar weight, rolling it around. "Okay, I'll try it."

"Hiccup!" Gobber stood in the doorway of the smithy. "I need yer 'ands fer a minute." He eyed Thomas suspiciously before turning and disappearing inside. Hiccup looked at Thomas and shrugged, heading for the doorway.

"What do you need, Gobber?" he said as he walked in. Outside, he noticed Thomas melting away into the village.

Gobber eyed him. "Frida's axe just came in, the regular clean-up. And I'll need yer ears as much as yer hands, if ya don't mind."

"Okay…" Hiccup hefted the dinged axe off the wall and set it on the workbench. "What is it? Does Dad have something awkward to tell me that he can't say in person?"

"No, not this time. I just wanted ta ask ya-you still carry that head on yer shoulders, yeah?"

"As far as I know." He detached the head from the haft. "Why?"

"Just checkin'. And you still have yer brains in that head, am I right?"

Frowning at Gobber, Hiccup paused in his work. "Excuse me?"

The old blacksmith lowered his voice, glancing out the window. "Look, I'll just say it righ' now-I don' like the look o' this Thomas character. He's no business bein' in Berk; all 'e does is sneak round an' spy on us. I'd be careful if I were you."

Irritated, Hiccup turned away and plopped the axe head onto the hot coals. "Thanks for the memo. I'll keep that in mind if he tries to lure me away with a trail of breadcrumbs."

"Hiccup, I'm bein' serious."

"So am I! In fact, I think he might be a draconian!" he snorted. "Let's go sharpen our swords!"

But the sarcasm fell dead, and Gobber simply stared at him grimly. Hiccup's stomach went cold.

"Um, he's not a draconian...right?" he said half-jokingly.

"Anything's possible," said Gobber darkly, switching his file attachment for his hammer. Hiccup stared at him.

"That's ridiculous!" he said incredulously. "Draconians are big and scaly with tails and claws and…" He fell silent as the possibility sank in. "No. No, he couldn't be," he decided.

"Believe what ya want. I'm just sayin' ya look awful close ta him. I'd hate ta see somethin' happen ta you because ya weren't payin' attention."

"Believe me, you're probably the only one who'd mourn if something did happen," Hiccup said dryly. The blade of the axe glowed a ruddy orange as he heaved it onto the anvil with a pair of long clamps, holding it in place as Gobber began to pound the dents out.

"Well," Gobber huffed between blows, "it just seems odd that 'e would single you out, of all people."

Hiccup pressed his lips together. "So what you're saying is that there must be a reason he wanted to be my friend, because nobody would bother getting to know me otherwise?"

Gobber shrugged. "Yer not the most approachable fella in Berk."

"Gee, thanks." They worked in silence for a few minutes, alternately hammering the axe blade and dousing it in cold water. "Okay, if it makes you feel better, I can ask him," Hiccup pointed out.

"Ya can't expect him ta give up 'is secrets so easily. Ya gotta wrestle them from 'im, take 'em from behind 'is back!" He swung his hammer through the air, nearly braining Hiccup, who ducked and looked at him in alarm.

"Or I could check the Dragon Book," he said carefully, and Gobber nodded sagely.

"Aye, there's that, too," he said thoughtfully.

* * *

It was after dinner, after dark. The Great Hall was empty, as everyone else had gone back to their homes to weather out a second storm that had decided to spill its guts. The cavernous room echoed with the occasional bang of thunder, and lightning glared through the cracks of the huge doors in shimmering blue arcs. The few candles Hiccup had lit barely brushed the walls and their bloody tapestries, hanging thick and dusty over the gray stone walls. As he passed them, he lifted his candle higher, scanning the woven images. Gaudy colors and exaggerated figures depicted gory battles between the Kunnians and groups of snarling monsters, humanoid in shape with twisting tails and glaring dragon heads and huge bat wings. There was no resemblance between Thomas and the wild draconians depicted that Hiccup had grown up around. He wondered how Gobber had ever made a connection. Well, Hiccup wasn't one to judge draconian or not. He'd never seen one in real life, and he figured that Gobber had seen lots. Leaving the tapestries, Hiccup headed for the long tables, where the Dragon Book lay.

Everything that the Berkians knew about dragons and draconians was found in the timeworn leather-bound book. The true dragons had gone away years ago; whether extinct or in hiding, nobody knew for sure. The draconians were still around, half-dragon people with an appetite for fresh meat and fresh humans. News of draconian attacks traveled to Berk every day from all corners of Kunnia, carried by various merchants and couriers, and with every report, a little more was added to the Dragon Book. Years and years of knowledge were compounded in this stack of paper.

Hiccup sat and pried open the heavy leather cover, the smell of soil and smoke staining its yellowed pages. Skipping through a few hastily scribbled introductions, he arrived at a kind of general overview, skimming it for pieces of information.

_Draconians have existed since before...occupied Oreka in a small group...mindless insensate beasts...in their attempts to oppress humans … out for blood … bloodthirsty … battle-hungry … kill … killing … slaughter… KILL ON SIGHT ..._

He began leafing through the pages, scanning the wealth of images and descriptions for anything that sounded familiar. There were kinds that had thick bumpy hides and who ate rocks to boil into their stomachs for firepower. Some had razor-sharp spines that they could launch from their tails like arrows, filled with a deadly poison. Some swam, some lit themselves on fire, some could even camouflage themselves. At the end of each section was an ominous addendum: Extremely dangerous; kill on sight. Out of all the breeds listed in the book, not one of them seemed to fit Thomas. He was about to give up the search and claim his triumph when the book fluttered open to the very last pages, which were almost blank, except for a few lines of runes.

_Night Fury. Speed unknown. Size unknown._

_The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this draconian._

_Your only chance: hide and pray it does not find you._

"Hiccup?"

His heart seemed to buck suddenly and stop working; whirling around, he saw someone standing in the doors of the hall, silhouetted in a flash of lightning. The dying firelight revealed a blurry glimpse of Thomas' surprised face as he stood hunched in the pouring rain, water dripping off of the edges of his cloak. "What are you doing in here?" he said in concern, as Hiccup hurriedly shut the Dragon Book.

"Nothing!" Hiccup nearly yelped. "No, I just, uh…" He patted the book awkwardly, like he would an animal. "Reading."

"Ah." His eyes lingered on the worn leather cover and Hiccup slid his hand further up, obscuring the title. "Well, I thought I would come tell you that your father is searching for you."

Hiccup's stomach dropped. "H-he is?" It was never a good sign when his dad was actively searching him out. He regretfully slid the book off the table, making sure to hug it close and avoid letting Thomas see it. Walking quickly over to the massive entrance hall doors, he stared out at the gushing rain. "Here goes nothing," he muttered.

"Wait." Thomas lifted a corner of his cloak, providing a cover from the storm. Hiccup ducked under it gratefully and they began trekking across the village, hunched over against the drizzling water. Thomas was tall enough to keep the cloak from even touching Hiccup's head; the drops simply hit the thick fabric and rolled off the edges in a shining stream. It was cold, but the shivers Hiccup received were a different kind of chill. His mind kept returning to the nearly-blank page at the end of the manual, and its strangely vague message. A small part of him couldn't help but wonder.

"What were you reading?" Thomas asked out of the blue, shielding his eyes as a gust of wind sprayed them with rain.

"It's just a...well…" Hiccup trailed off as he realized that now was his chance. "It's about draconians," he finished casually, watching Thomas for any reaction.

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What about them?"

Still nothing so far. "Pretty much everything." They turned down a fork in the village road and approached Hiccup's house in the distance, windows alight with an auburn glow that was dimmed and blurred by the rain. "Where they live, their natural weapons, how they attack and how long they live…"

"Fascinating," Thomas said musingly, appraising him with a curious look. "You'll have to inform me about these creatures. I have no love for the draconians in my homeland."

"Your homeland?" Hiccup's scheming was thrown off-track. "Where's that?"

"Far to the north, beyond the borders of both Traum and Kosmaria. I was wronged by them many years ago. I haven't returned since."

"I'm sorry."

They paused in the middle of the runny road, tented under the cloak, sizing each other up without acknowledging the other that they were doing so. But they were both aware of the scrutiny. Draconian or not, Thomas knew something was up, and so Hiccup tried to look as blank and serious as possible. Then, rather surprisingly, the stranger smiled, tilting his head sideways.

"You're an odd one, Hiccup," he commented.

Under other circumstances, Hiccup would have been offended, but something about the way Thomas delivered the statement made him simply smirk and shake his head. "So I've been told," he said.

"I should hope so. What I mean to say is…" He hesitated and his smile faded. "Don't be ashamed of it. Don't let anyone make you think that's a bad thing, Hiccup."

Hiccup was surprisingly touched by the words. "I, uh...yeah, I will. I mean, I won't." How strange it was to receive a compliment for once, and a sincere one at that. Everyone in the village had always seemed intent on tearing him down, but Thomas...Thomas was always trying to build him up. If he really was a draconian, he wasn't doing a very good job of keeping a low profile in Berk, that was for sure. But Hiccup didn't mind. Having someone this close to him felt good.

Of course, there was the small problem that Thomas could possibly be a bloodthirsty killing machine, he thought with a rush of uneasiness. Gobber might have a point. Perhaps he was getting close to Hiccup for other reasons besides friendship. Realizing that his face had become too open, too expressive, he closed it off behind the always-present cynical, noncommittal mask. "I should probably go," he said.

"Right." Thomas dropped his intense gaze and let the cloak fall around him as Hiccup stepped out into the downpour, keeping the book dry underneath his vest. They stood in silence for a few seconds more. Hiccup blinked as the rain ran down his hair and dripped off the ends, tickling his cheeks with cold water. He couldn't just leave like that. Whatever fragile bond he'd forged a moment ago was about to break.

"Hey." Thomas glanced up at Hiccup's quick word. "We, uh...I…" He shrugged, waving his hands vaguely, unsure of what to say. How to put their odd and sudden friendship into words. "Thanks," he finally managed to say.

The stranger half-smiled and dipped his head. "You're welcome, Hic." Hiccup smiled at the nickname and turned, trudging through the muddy ground back to his house, glowing softly in the storm. It may have been hasty and brief, and he may not have said everything he wanted to, but he hoped he had conveyed nonverbally what he hadn't in words. That they were now friends.

And if he wasn't mistaken, Thomas had said the very same thing.

**A/N: Gee, I wonder what he could be...XD Comments appreciated and welcomed!**


	10. Chapter 9

Jack knew he was in trouble as soon as he saw the wanted signs.

It was a cold, misty, rainy day. The flat gray clouds appeared as a solid ceiling of dark fog, hanging so low that the mountains in the distances tabbed through their heavy bellies. It was only at these times that Jack wished he had shoes. The rain turned the rough, pebbly dust of the main roads into a thick, glutinous ooze that slopped between his toes and up his ankles. He longed for a river or a pond to scrub himself clean-well, less dirty, as it were- but it would be a while before he could afford the luxury of stopping. Guards were tenacious things. He was fairly sure he was still in Ira and he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

Up ahead was the outskirts of a good-sized town, not big enough to have Noctis guards patrolling its streets, but not so small that everyone was related and gossip spread like wildfire and everyone's sixths sense went off every time the population strayed from the norm. He'd been to towns like that. He was pretty sure the people of Burgess were still telling their children about the strange white-haired boy ghosting through their village, months after he'd gone there on a false lead from a robber. Jack vowed never to trust the pale-faced, yellow-eyed Toby Tallstick ever again.

The road into town was watched over by two armored men that were obviously soaked and chilled to the bone. Water ran in crystalline rivulets down the gleaming metal plates and dripped down dark blue tunics. Jack felt a flash of sympathy, wishing that everyone could be as resistant to cold as he was. He joined the trickle of people seeking shelter from the storm, nervously tugging his hood lower and dipping his head to avoid eye contact with the sentinels. Couldn't be too careful.

The rickety outskirts became sturdier and more intimidating the farther he ventured into town. Curls of steam and smoke drifted overhead from various chimneys and skylights and cracked-open doors and windows. Everyone soaked in the rain, but also stayed out of its way. Few dared to walk the muddy streets, people with turned-up collars and broad hats that streamed with rainwater. The downpour made the buildings ahead look hazy and blurred. Whenever someone hurried by, Jack planted his staff in the ground like a walking stick or a shepherd's crook, but as soon as they passed, he returned to holding it horizontally like the weapon it was.

After an hour of searching, Jack found what he'd came for: a town notice board, sheltered from the rain with various official-looking documents nailed to the splintery, weathered wood. It stood in the middle of the town square, a lonely little affair with puddles of rippling water dabbing the cobblestone in smears of translucent brown. A large building, sturdier and more impressive than the rest, dominated the left side of the square. It was probably a town meeting hall or some such. A limp Iran flag dangled from the eaves, a coppery dragon with two spears shining dully on a black field, water dripping off of the dark corners. Jack cast a quick glance around to look for unfriendly eyes. Seeing nobody, he stepped up to the board. With a sinking feeling, he found what he'd managed to escape for a long time-a wanted poster. His wanted poster. His likeness had been captured in a few swift strokes, along with a brief description of himself. Jack only knew how to read a little, but from what he could decipher he found out that he was to be captured alive; the reward was a handsome amount. The poster also labeled him as an extremely dangerous mage, but he disregarded that part. It was only because they saw him wind walking. Still, to be wanted alive was a strange feeling. And the poster was from Noctis, not Corona. _That's odd. It's Corona that wants the crown back. I've never caused enough trouble in Kosmaria to be wanted by Pitch Black himself._

He shook his head and took down the poster, tossing it into a puddle. The ink smeared across the paper, distorting his face. As an afterthought, he took down Flynn's poster as well, several of which had been up all over the two countries for a while. Flynn was always complaining about the position of his nose in each picture. It was something that Jack loved to needle him about. Looking at Flynn's cocky smile, Jack felt a pang of loneliness. _I hope he's still OK._ He let the paper float to the street, where it wrinkled and twisted as it grew sodden with water. He tipped his head back and let the rain trickle down his face.

_I'm being hunted._

He'd managed to stay out of both Kosmarian and Traum clutches for so long. Now he was wanted and he didn't even know why. What did Pitch Black, the most powerful man in Kosmaria, want with an amnesiac thief off the street? Did it have something to do with his past? _What do I do if they catch me? Should I just go with them and see what Pitch wants?_

_Should I just leave Flynn like that?_

The storm of emotions surged inside of him, one part aching for an easy way out, the other stubbornly refusing to leave his friend's side. He brushed the conflict aside for now. _I'll worry about it when we get there._

Squaring his shoulders, Jack stepped back out into the pouring rain, heading towards the north end of town and to the shadowy lands beyond.

**A/N: I'm not posting a week early, what are you talking about. You're crazy. short chapter is short.**

**ahahaha. I just wanted to advertise a little bit here, I have the fanfic's regular tumblr (mages-ascendant . tumblr . com) and I just created a new ask blog! ask-mages-ascendant . tumblr . com Please feel free to drop by and ask one of the characters any question you want! (hehe just keep it appropriate and spoiler-free) ^.^ **

**Thank you so much for all of the follows, I promise you won't be disappointed!**


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